


Hard Heads

by ItsaCapitalDay (itsacapitalday)



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-30 00:24:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5143529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsacapitalday/pseuds/ItsaCapitalDay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it takes a knock on the head to realise what you really want.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> New to Hockey, the boys might be OOC, if they are I apologise in advance.

The game had been going well. Well, not well but the team was ahead and that was what was important. Coach Trotz wasn’t like a lot of the other coaches, he didn’t need to scream at his team to earn their obedience and the team played accordingly, each team member did whatever they could to both win and earn coaches respect. Andre himself had been enjoying the game. By joyous happenstance he was on a line with both of his roommates and they had been quietly kicking ass, but that was until a few moments ago.  
It was like the game had shifted into slow motion. Being in front of his friend, Andre could see his intention in his eyes as he moved, and hadn’t had the speed of thought to tell him to stop before it had already happened. Willy had launched his big padded body into the path of the puck, throwing his body on the line to save a goal. Andre thought that Willy had intended to catch the puck with his body but it had slammed into the side of his helmet and glanced off his head.

Andre had seen a lot of people injured, some teammates he had been close to but none of them were like Willy and Latt’s to him. He didn’t know what he should do. It was so scary to see Big Willy so still, he was never like that. He wanted to check that Willy was okay, but he could see the look of horror on Latt’s face, he should comfort him too, but he was confused. He was sure in his own mind that Willy and Latt’s were alskare, how do American’s say, lovers? The team even joked about them being engaged, Willy had explained to him that it meant they were to be married, yet he had never seen them be more affectionate than they were to their other friends and teammates in front of him. So he was confused, and he was worried himself that his friend was okay. Smithy was on the ice tending to Willy, Latt’s hovering behind. He was scared, Andre could see him physically trembling, but the decision was taken from Andre’s hands, Chimmer skated up to Latt’s and murmured something. Seconds later Latt’s skated back to stand in front of the bench.

Instead he watched Willy slowly get to his feet, his first thoughts of his best friend, questioning again and again that Latt’s was okay, even while he was trying to understand that he was still on the ice. Andre could see that he really wasn’t ‘okay’, far from it, he was being held up by Greenie and Smithy and steered toward the bench. Holts tapped Andre’s thigh with his stick startling him out of his reverie, and offering him a thumbs up that his team/line/room mate would be fine and to get back to the game. He continued to watch Willy as Chimmer and Papa spoke to Willy as he was guided over the step before he skated back to the bench. His line now depleted wouldn’t be on the ice again this game. His job now was to distract Latt’s from his concern for the next ten minutes.

#~#~#~#~#~#

Despite the 2-1 win over the Redwings it was a subdued locker room that night. Willy had been taken to the hospital for precautionary x-ray’s and tests to abide by the leagues concussion protocols, that had made Latt’s fidgety and concerned and that anxiousness rubbed off on the rest of the team. They were showered and back in their suits in record time and despite Latt’s vociferous demands Coach had refused to allow him to go the hospital citing the fact that he would be back at the hotel ‘before you know it’, which translated into Latt’s being even more keyed up on the bus.

Sliding into the empty seat beside Latt’s, Andre sat silently for a moment before he put his hand on his roommate’s knee. 

“Latts? You are Okay? No?” he asked quietly tilted his head towards Latts’ to speak to him with all the privacy he could muster.

Michael nodded his head.

“I share room with Willy.” 

“I know, Burkie.” 

Andre frowned, confused by the frustration he could hear in Latts’ voice, but he pressed on. 

“I not need to, Michael.” 

“Where are you going to go?” Latts hissed under his breath as he looked up into Andre’s eyes.

“You have room on your self? No?” Andre asked, his lips curling into a smile.

“Your own.” Michael corrected automatically, before Andre’s question ticked over in his mind.

“You’d do that for us….me?” 

Andre glanced around the bus to make sure they weren’t being overheard before leaning in closer, his lips almost pressed against Michael’s ear.

“Know you two are forlovad,” he paused searching for the right word in his head, “engaged. He is hurt. You should together be.”

“be together.” Michael corrected again. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes I do. You my brobeans. You hurt I can fix.”

“Thanks buddy.” Latts squeezed Andre’s hand tightly.

“He is good, brobean. Willy okrossbar, he be fine.” Andre leaned back in his seat.

“okror….what?” Latts shook his head almost in amusement.

Andre bit his lip, waving one hand in circles trying to come up with the English translation in his weary head.

“I think I mean can not be breaked.” He eventually said.

Michael turned in his seat and hugged his roommate forgetting to correct his English.

~#~#~#~#~

Michael had been pacing, hell he’d almost worn a track into the carpet dividing his time between castigating himself for going all fucking overwrought housewife and worrying about Willy. He wasn’t stupid he’d seen the videos of stupid hockey injuries, he knew what the fuck could go down, but Willy had walked off the ice, he had seemed woozy but not at death’s door. He needed to see him to make sure, that was all. Yeah. He just needed to make sure the big heroic idiot was going to live. Sure, keep telling yourself that, Latts.

The sound of the keycard in the door startled him from his self-ruminations. If this had been any other situation he would have laughed his ass off at the way he panicked and nearly tripped over his own feet to get to the wall and hide behind the door. Why he was hiding behind the door fuck only knew. Half the fucking team already thought they were engaged or in some sort of fucking co-dependant relationship. None of them would be at all surprised to see him waiting for Tom. It was just something didn’t feel right about outing himself by being in his imaginary boyfriend’s room anticipating his return like some sort of regency princess.

Shaking his own voice out of his brain, he waited for Tom to enter the room but was surprised when Backy poked his head inside.

“Latts, you in here?”

Michael immediately stepped forward, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. “Where’s Tom?”

“I went looking for you in your room. I found Andre.” Backy looked at him strangely.

“Tom’s my best friend, Papa, I am worried about him.”

“We all are Latts.” Backy shrugged, “Is there anything you need to tell me?”

“Nothing.” Michael shook his head. “Why are you looking for me?”

“Trotz wanted me to tell you about Willy.” 

Michael stumbled backwards and sank onto the edge of the bed.

“What’s wrong with him? Something has happened hasn’t it? That stupid moronic ‘team player’ sacrificed himself for the team didn’t he? He’s broken his head hasn’t he?”

“Dude. You really need to calm down. He’s fine, he’s comfortable, they’re just running some tests and thought it would be better all round to keep him overnight. You’ll see him in the morning… Are you sure there’s nothing you need to tell me?”

“I said no. And it’s the truth.”

“I really don’t care, Latts, I just want my pups to be happy, besides I want to know who’s hand I need to hold if one of you takes ‘one’ for the team in the future.” Nick laughed. 

“Get some sleep, Latts. He’ll be back in the morning.”

Backy walked out of the room closing the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael couldn’t say for sure but he may have slept. As the sunrise started to yellow the edges of the grey view from the hotel window he gave up the pretence and shuffled around the room packing Tom’s belongings, his mind constantly whirling with worry for Tom and if he were completely truthful with himself concern for their relationship.

Without Tom the Capitals would not be nearly as much of a family to him as they were. Being Tom’s roommate, line mate and best friend had filled a space in him that he hadn’t known was there. These days it didn’t feel right if Willy wasn’t at his side, even over summer. The absolute truth was he had known for a long time but had been happily fooling himself that he loved the big lug. Yes, he loved his best buddy, but more than that, he was IN love with him. It had taken seeing him so still on the ice to finally kick him into admitting it to himself. 

There were so many things that he could see were against the both of them being happy together. They are both professional athletes, and coming out to the world didn’t really have a good track record in that world. Not that he was afraid of coming out, hell his whole family knew that he fancied guys just as much as he liked girls. But, and this was the second and biggest problem he could see for them, they were both so young, particularly Willy, he was barely more than a teenager, even if some days he seemed like the oldest mind on the team. They had chosen this career for themselves and there was every possibility that by choosing to act on their feelings they could fuck their whole future up completely. 

Latts laughed under his breath, feeling very little mirth in the situation. He’d been more honest with himself in the last ten hours than he had been for months, but at the moment a future in hockey without Willy really didn’t seem like a future at all. He flopped back on the bed, his arms starfished above him, Willy’s bag at his feet. Why, for fucks sake, he was here behaving like a lovesick school girl he had no clue, but when he saw him on the plane today he would fix this, he had to. It wasn’t the perfect environment but you had to use what you had right? On the plane he would tell Tom exactly how he felt about him. He really didn’t have to even consider that Tom would reject his affections because every single person on the team knew how Willy felt about his Latts. Tom had been in love with him for as long as he could remember, what he had thought of as Willy’s stupid heart eyes telegraphed Tom’s every inner emotion to the world.

A knock at the door started him from his thoughts. He rose from the bed, shaking his head and wondering when exactly he had become a teenage girl.

“Latts!” Andre’s smiling face greeted him as he opened the door. “Willy is good? Yes?”

“I assume so.” Michael nodded with a tight smile.

“Why assume? He is not here?” Andre tried to peer around Michael’s person.

“No they kept him overnight to run some more tests.”

Andre considered that for a moment before he smiled again. “He is fine. They just want to make sure there is really something in that hard head of his.”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh at that and drew Andre into a tight embrace. “You are a good friend Burt. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

“I packed your bag. This is okay?” Andre questioned as he gestured to the two bags he had placed beside the door.

“That’s good. I had forgotten all about it.” 

“You are worried? No?” Andre regarded him closely.

“Wouldn’t you be? He was so still and it hit him in the head. Who knows what it knocked loose. Why did they keep him overnight? They haven’t done that with anyone before.”

“He is in good hands, Latts.” Andre nodded listening to Michael’s concerns, “If there was something wrong they would have said.”

“I guess.” Michael shrugged.

“Breakfast, yes?” Andre suggested. He swung both bags inside the door of the room, and dragged Michael after him by the shoulder. “All is better after food.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life only gets harder for Latts, especially when the rest of the team get all up in his business.

The rest of the team spent breakfast watching him as if he was a ticking bomb, somehow going to explode if they mentioned the ‘T’ word. After they ate, it was almost situation normal, gear was collected and packed in a rental truck and shipped to the airport, the players milled around in the lobby as their bus pulled into the driveway, Michael watching every arrival carefully waiting for Tom’s smiling face to show up so they could leave. 

Ovi clapped his large hand around Michael’s shoulder and steered him towards the bus.

“C’mon Latta. Your boyfriend back soon. Get on bus, I want to go home.”

Still a little scared of Ovi, Michael allowed himself to be steered towards the bus and jostled up the stairs. Pushed into the front seat of the bus, and having his captain drop himself into the seat beside him was not Mike’s idea of a fun trip, but he sat there his fist clenched tightly in his pockets willing the bus to move. 

He was barely aware of the trip to the airport, relieved when Ovi climbed out of the seat beside him and bounded off the bus, Latts remained in his seat until the crowd had thinned, his eyes scanning the tarmac anxiously.

“He’s going to meet us at home.” Holtby’s calm voice spoke from over the back of his seat.

“He is hurt isn’t he?” Latts spun in his seat, his eyes searching the impassive face watching him.

“He was out cold, of course he’s hurt. But for fucks sake can you stop going all worst case scenario on us? They want to run some more tests to make sure that the good results they have are 100% correct. One of the trainers is staying with him and they’ll take a commercial flight as soon as the tests are done. I guarantee you he’ll be at home after we’re finished morning skate. Now can you stop playing the fragile widow, get off the bus so we can go home?”

“You sure he’s alright?”

“Short of sticling the thermometer up his ass myself? Yes. He’s got a concussion. We’ve all had them. He’ll be fine. Let’s go Mrs Wilson.” Braden spoke dragging himself out of his seat and off the bus.  


Latt’s followed placidly dumping his gear onto the pile and walking up the steps onto the plane. He slipped into a seat and stared blankly out the window, only moving to acknowledge Greenie’s request to fasten his seat belt. Thankfully the flight was short and once they had made it back to DC, the team loaded into a bus and were shuttled directly to Kettler for morning skate. It was only a light skate, a few drills, some shot practice but all of the team was both tired and impatient to get back to their families and homes. An injury to a team member always rattled the team, no matter how minor the injury, it always made the other players consider their own longevity in their career and in the family they made for themselves on the ice. 

They had the rest of the day off, and an optional skate the next day so it was a subdued group of men showering and dressing in their street clothes after two hours on the ice so it didn’t surprise Latts at all when Backy plucked his car keys out of his hand as he attempted to day his goodbyes and creep away from the constant scrutiny of his teammates.

“My pup is not driving today.” He tossed the keys over his shoulder to Andre who deftly caught them and grinned.

“I will drive it home for you Latts.” Andre responded.

“I’m perfectly capable of driving myself home, Nicky.” 

“I do know that Michael. I wish to have chat with you.” 

Latts ran his fingers through his hair, turning agitatedly on the spot, frustrated. He didn’t want to ‘have a chat’ with Nicky but he was reluctant to make a scene, so he followed meekly, stowing his bag in the trunk of Nicky’s car. They drove in silence for a few moments, Nicky waited just long enough to enter the flow of normal traffic so he could give part of his attention to Mike.

“I want to know what you wish to do?” He asked flicking his attention to look briefly at his passenger.

“What about?” 

“Do not pretend to be stupid, Michael.” Backstrom sighed, “About Willy.”

“What do I need to do?” Latts turned a little in his seat to watch Backy.

“We all know how Tom feels about you. I want to know how you feel about him.”

“Respectfully, Papa, I don’t think it is any of your business.”

Nicklas was silent for several minutes, his bottom lip caught in his teeth as he pondered what Latts had said to him.

“That is good. I don’t want to be my business, but I must look after my pups.” He stopped the car at the curb in front of the Wilson-Latta apartment and reached out to lay a hand on Latt’s forearm. “I need you to promise me that you won’t hurt him.”

“I can’t promise you that.” Latts shrugged, “What if he doesn’t agree with what I have to say?”

“That is also good.” Nicky nodded. “You won’t hurt him deliberately?”

“You know that I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“That is all I can ask then.” Nicky reached over to press the button that would open his trunk. “Take your bag, he is already at home.”

“How long has he been home?” Latts frowned, as he stepped out of the car.

“Since maybe halfway through skate.” Backy shrugged, smiling as Andre walked up to the car and slipped between Latts and the open door.

“Car is in your space, Latts.” Andre flicked the keys at Michael, laughing as he fumbled the catch.

“You don’t have skate in morning.” Nicky called out the window as he slowly pulled away from the kerb.

Mike stood there, watching them merge into traffic, smiling as Andre leaned out of the window, a broad smile on his face as he waved, before he hefted his bag onto his shoulder and made his way up to his apartment still unsure of how to face his new problem.


	4. Chapter 4

His hands were shaking as he put his key in the lock and entered their apartment. They had only left a few days ago but while they had been gone everything had changed. On some level, he had always known what Tom meant to him, but seeing him so still on the ice had broken something inside him, in his heart he could never go back to just being Tom’s roommate.

Dropping his bag quietly just inside the door, he glanced into the rooms he could see. The blinds were drawn, the light in their usually light and airy apartment dimmed. Walking through to the kitchen Mike went to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.  
He had been consumed with the need to see Willy, but now that he was home and in arms reach he was afraid to seek him out. Taking a long swallow from the water, he left the bottle on the bench and wandered through their home, frowning at the silence. He poked his head around Tom’s bedroom door frame and was surprised to find that his bed was empty. Confused, Mike backtracked to the living room checking that he hadn’t rolled off the sofa onto the floor. Still coming up empty he walked back up the hall and into his own room, intending to flop onto his bed and text Burkie to see if he knew what the fuck was going on.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he crossed the threshold of his room.

Tom lay in the centre of the bed, his huge body curled in on itself.

“Oh, Tom.” He whispered as he moved to the bedside.

“Latts?” Tom’s voice was little more than a whisper, his face screwed up in pain.

“I’m here, Tommy.” He reached out to brush the hair off Tom’s forehead.

“Are you okay?” Tom asked, his voice small.

“That should be my question.” Latts scolded, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Had to stop the goal.” Tom tried an approximation of a shrug that ended up in a wincing wriggle against the mattress. “Did we win?”

“You stupid idiot.” Latts couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. “You are more important than a win.”

Tom lifted his head and tried to sit up only to topple forward his hand shading his eyes.

“Holy Fuck Latts.” Tom exclaimed as he lowered himself gingerly onto the bed. “My head hurts like a bitch.”

Mike couldn’t help himself, before he even knew his feet were moving he was on his knees beside the bed. “What did they say?” Michael switched the bedside light on so he could see Tom’s face.

"Concussion.” Tom muttered his words slurring as if it hurt him to speak. “Do we need the light?”

“I want to see your face.” Michael murmured, his fingertips across the deep bruising and swelling on the side of his face. “You’ll have to tweet that nobody hurt your pretty face.” Latts let his fingers trail across Tom’s temple, gently massaging, his other hand lifting to turn the light off.

“mmm” Tom whispered, “that feels good.”

“Want me to keep doing it?” 

“Mmmm. Where’s Burky?”

“He’s staying at Papa’s.” 

“Sorry.” Tom turned his head and opened his eyes, unfocused and bloodshot.

“What for?” Michael murmured, concentrating on trailing his fingers in a featherlight dance across Tom’s scalp.

“being in your room.”

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” Michael’s teeth worried his bottom lip. “It’s not as bright in here.”

“Smells like you.” Tom whispered.

“What smells like me?” Mike felt like he’d missed a vital part of the conversation. 

“The bed.” 

“What am I missing?” he frowned.

“I missed you.” He opened his eyes and looked at his roommate. “I kept asking for you.”

“They wouldn’t let me see you.” Latts moved to sit on the side of the bed, one hand massaging Tom’s temple. 

Rolling slowly onto his back, his eyes clenched in pain, he waited until his head stopped pounding to open his eyes. “I thought I had missed my chance.”

“What?” Mike squawked loudly, mentally castigating himself when Tom winced and squeezed his eyes shut, tears shimmering on his lashes. “Sorry mate.” He soothed. “Did they give you painkillers?”

“Yeah.” Tom murmured, “On my nightstand.”

“Stay here.” Michael ordered him, and almost ran out of the room, he collected the small prescription bottle in Tom’s room and grabbed a bottle of water from the kitchen. Kicking his shoes off at the bedroom door, he slipped his shirt over his head before he sat on the bed beside Tom, he gently manhandled his roommate until he was almost sitting up against Mike’s side, with one strong hand he popped the cap on the pill bottle and shook two into his palm. Putting the bottle down on the nightstand he collected the bottle of water. 

“C’mon Tommy.” He urged him, pressing the pills against his dry, cracked lips. “Drink this for me.”

Tom opened his lips far enough to pull the pills in with his tongue. Michael pressed the water bottle against his lips and tilted it slightly watching as Tom swallowed. He put the bottle back on the nightstand and wiped the trickle of water from the corner of Tom’s mouth.

“Hurts.” Tom muttered, burrowing his face against Latt's bare chest.

“I know, Tommy.”Latt's wrapped one arm around Tom’s shoulders, the other gently brushing across the lump on the side of Tom’s head.

“Thought I’d lost you.” 

“You were the one throwing yourself in front of a puck.” 

“You weren’t there and I haven’t told you.”

“You haven’t told me what, Willy.” Latt’s frowned.

“Doesn’t matter.” Tom slurred, the painkillers beginning to take effect.

“Yes it does.” Mike brushed the hair off Tom’s forehead, tilting his own head to try and see what was going on in Tom’s head. “What’s wrong Tommy?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Tom snuffled into Mike’s chest, one arm wrapping around his waist. He was struggling against the medication. “it’s better I don’t tell you.”

“Tell me what?” Mike probed.

“Love you, Mikey.” Tom whispered as he slipped into a drug induced sleep.

Michael was stunned into silence. His hands continued to caress Tom’s shoulders and neck, tender fingertips tracing across the warm skin beneath them.

“Oh Tom.” He murmured, his lips brushing a soft kiss against Tom’s hair. “How stupid have we both been?”

He shrugged his way slowly down the bed, until they were lying flat on the bed, Latts moved so that Tom’s face was cradled in his shoulder, masked from any light that may affect him. He turned onto his own side and exhausted from the emotional agony of the previous twenty-four hours succumbed to his own weariness.

~@~@~@~

Tom woke slowly. The pounding in his head was intense, but not as bad as it had been when he had gotten home. 

“Feeling better?” Michael’s hand traced across Tom’s bare chest.

“What the fuck?” Tom started. Sitting bolt upright in Latt’s loose embrace, his eyes narrowing as his head started throbbing again. “What are you doing here?”

“My bed, Tommy.” Michael laughed at the expression on Tom’s face.

“What?” Tom squinted as the crescendo of pain in his head began to reach its peak again, his confusion evident as he glanced around the room.

“You were in my bed when I got home.”

“Fuck.” Tom cursed as he flopped back against the mattress. He frowned as he contemplated the dreams he thought he had had last night. Dreams that may have fucked up the best friendship he had ever had. He lifted his hands to cup his face and block Latts from his vision.

“Tommy” Mike persisted. Now that he thought he knew what was in Tom’s mind, he wasn’t as scared of letting himself be hurt as he was before. 

“I didn’t mean it, Latts.” Tom muttered from under his hands. “It was the pills they gave me, I didn’t know what I was talking about.”

“I think you did.” Mike leaned over so that his head was on the same pillow that Tom was resting against.

“I can’t.” Tom ground out. “I won’t.”

“Why not?” 

“Because I can’t fucking lose you.” Tom turned to consider Mike’s face so close to his. “this.” He waved his hand wildly between them.

“You’re an idiot, Tommy.”

“Learned from the best.” Tom snapped back, his mouth twisted into a small grin.

“How do you know that things will change.”

“Because things will get weird. You aren’t into…that.”

“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”

Tom rolled onto his side, facing Mike to look better at him as they spoke. 

“Why do you think I’m not?”

“I’m not an idiot, I’ve seen all the chicks you pull.”

“Well, you must be lying then. I’ve seen you pull just as many.”

“Only because…” Tom rolled back onto his back and flung an arm over his eyes. “Just forget it. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Tom. You always matter.” Mike murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long, 1more to go


End file.
